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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000151">Il Faut Tenter de Vivre</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamanegi/pseuds/Tamanegi'>Tamanegi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester Talks About Feelings, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester is Loved, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s08e08 Hunteri Heroici, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, Talk to Me scene but sam doesn't walk in, but he interrupted a rare moment in which, don't get me wrong I love sam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:08:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamanegi/pseuds/Tamanegi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Because if I see what Heaven’s become, what I… what I made of it… I’m afraid I might kill myself.”<br/>Dean starts. Puts a hand out to grab Castiel’s knee before he realises what he’s doing.<br/>“Cas…” He doesn’t have the words for this. Never learned them from John, never had want or need of them before. The realisation burns guilty in his stomach.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Il Faut Tenter de Vivre</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Because if I see what Heaven’s become, what I… what I made of it… I’m afraid I might kill myself.”<br/>
</p><p>Dean starts. Puts a hand out to grab Castiel’s knee before he realises what he’s doing.<br/>
</p><p>“Cas…” He doesn’t have the words for this. Never learned them from John, never had want or need of them before. The realisation burns guilty in his stomach.<br/>
</p><p>Castiel is watching him, eyes wide and blue. His hand goes to cover Dean’s, then slides up to take his wrist instead.<br/>
</p><p>Dean tries not to notice.<br/>
</p><p>“Look man, I get it,” he tries, going for flippant. “Number of times I’ve looked at the fucked up shit I’ve done and wanted to end it all. ‘S normal.”<br/>
</p><p>“No Dean, it’s not,” Castiel says. His face contorts slightly, lips pressing together. “Dean…” He reaches out, arm and hand held awkward like he’s not quite sure where they are in space. When his hand comes to rest against Dean’s cheek, Dean doesn’t push it off.<br/>
</p><p>“Cas,” Dean starts.<br/>
</p><p>“No Dean,” Castiel says. His gaze fixes Dean in place, a weak flicker of that old righteous, heavenly fury burning there. “If you ever, ever, feel like that… like killing yourself…”<br/>
</p><p>“Then what, Cas,” Dean snaps. “You’ll smite me? For attempted murder of the Righteous Man? Of the Michaelsword? Is that it?”<br/>
</p><p>“Dean-”<br/>
</p><p>“-or are you gonna be like Sammy and try to make me talk about my feelings-”<br/>
</p><p>“We’re doing that right now-”<br/>
</p><p>“I get it, Cas, everything’s too fucking big and sometimes you just wanna end it, but you gotta remember that it ain’t about you sometimes-”<br/>
</p><p>“Dean!” He’s on the edge of the bed, weight shifted forward so far that when Castiel pulls in, he goes, knees hitting the shitty motel carpet. Castiel’s bony knees are poking him right in the ribs and his spindlefingers are locked vicelike around the wrist of the hand still on Castiel’s knee.<br/>
</p><p>He looks up so he’s not staring straight at Cas’s stomach, finds Cas looming wide-eyed and close, too close. He tries to pull his hand away from Cas’ knee, and in retaliation Cas pulls it up and away. His free hand grabs at Cas’s leg for balance, fingers digging into dark suit trousers.<br/>
</p><p>Cas doesn’t blink. He never seems to blink, eyes held wide open like he thinks they’re supposed to be that way. “Dean,” he says again. “You are more than just your role in Heaven’s machinations.”<br/>
</p><p>Dean does blink. Repeatedly. “Sure man,” he says. “I get it, you need me and Sammy to close the gates of Hell and show you how to wipe your ass like a human, I get it.”<br/>
Where his hand rests, Cas’s thumb caresses Dean’s cheekbone. “You mean more to the people around you than you think, Dean. Sam, and Bobby, Kevin.”<br/>
</p><p>Dean tries to speak, tries to say <i>I know, I’m awesome.</i> Tries to say, <i>what would y’all do without me.</i> The words don’t come out, so he clears his throat and tries again and when the words are forced out his voice cracks around them. “I’m nothing.”<br/>
</p><p>Castiel flinches back. “Don’t-”<br/>
</p><p>“Without Michael, without Heaven’s goddamn plan… I’m just a guy, Cas. I’m nothing.”<br/>
</p><p>His eyes are pricklehot, face burning. He’s not crying, dammit, doesn’t do that girly shit, especially not in front of other guys. He drops Cas’s gaze to stare at the crack between the bedframe and the shitty, horrible carpet instead.<br/>
</p><p>Cas allows it, then turns Dean’s face back to face him. “Dean, you are loved.” Dean tries to look away again, but Cas won’t let him. His grip is gentle, but ironclad, all the strength of the heavenly host secreted away in that skinny frame, hidden under layers of beige and black polyester. “Promise me, Dean… if you ever feel like that again, like killing yourself-”<br/>
</p><p>Dean snorts. “When I next feel like that, you mean.”<br/>
</p><p>“When you feel it, Dean, promise me you’ll tell me.”<br/>
</p><p>Dean stares. His arm, still hauled high above his head, is going numb, and his knees on the carpet are starting to send shooting pains up his thighs. “What-”<br/>
</p><p>“Just promise me. Please.”<br/>
</p><p><i>Fine.</i> “Fine.” It’s not his fault if Cas is the one who asked. Cas, unconcerned with all that girly feelings crap forbidden to Dean. “I’ll tell you.”<br/>
</p><p>Cas nods, and as his grip starts to relax, a spike of pure fear shoots through Dean.<br/>
</p><p>“And you too,” he blurts. Instantly regrets it.<br/>
</p><p>Cas tilts his head. “I should… tell you if I feel like killing  myself?”<br/>
</p><p>“Yes.” Oh god, it’s too late now, there’s no taking back the words once they’re said. And he said them. “I gotta look out for you man, like I do for Sammy.”<br/>
</p><p>“Dean…” Cas’s eyes have gained a suspicious gleam, but Dean can’t look away. Tells himself it’s because of the right hand of heaven holding him there. Cas blinks- finally, Dean thinks- and he says: “And if we are both feeling… bad?”<br/>
</p><p>“Then we tell Sammy.” God, Dean’s regretting this so much. It’s one thing talking feelings with Cas, inhuman, unaware of what’s off limits for men like him, men like Dean, but roping Sam into the whole humiliating mess…<br/>
</p><p>Cas nods. “Thank you, Dean.”<br/>
</p><p>His face is too close, close enough that Dean can feel his breath ghosting across the end of his nose. He should move away, put some safe distance between them before he does something immeasurably stupid. Like put his hand up and cup Cas’s face as Cas is holding his.<br/>
</p><p>Cas blinks again, startled, but doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t resist, when Dean pulls his face down the last few inches to seal their mouths together, or when Dean pushes up off the floor- finally! his knees scream- to push Cas over onto his back onto the bed, or when Dean climbs on top of him there.<br/>
</p><p>“Dean-”<br/>
</p><p>Dean kisses him again to shut him up. Any more of this talk of feelings and he’ll start growing new and worrying body parts.<br/>
</p><p>Cas doesn’t seem to get the message, pulling away again to fix Dean with those unearthly blue eyes. His hair is sticking in all directions, tie askew. His hand has slipped around Dean’s face to the back of his neck, and the other comes up now to rest over the handprint burned into Dean’s shoulder.<br/>
</p><p>“Even if I never return to Heaven, Dean,” he says from where Dean has him pinned to the bed. Face so earnest, so painfully sincere. “Knowing you makes life down here worth living.”<br/>
</p><p>Dean can’t help it; this is where he starts crying.</p>
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